Chilli Chocolate
by Miss.Mil
Summary: It was the ultimate indulgence; to taste something so erotic from her lips.


_A little bit of naughty and harmless fun. Came to my brain after I discovered this little treat a few weeks ago when I was supposed to be studying. Oops. :)_

* * *

Eating chilli with chocolate is, by contrast, like playing with fire.

It burns in a way that is totally unexpected.

And it is totally comparable to kissing Kathryn Janeway.

That burns too, because messing with that woman is like playing with fire. And you can't help but get burned in the process.

It's ironic, because he's never liked chilli, chocolate or spicy food.

He's never liked the way it makes his mouth sting, and his eyes water. Or that for days after you can't taste anything _real._

But it reminds him of her.

Its exotic and intriguing and it exhilarates him in a way he's never experienced.

The slightly bitter and spicy flavour hits him in all the right places, and like a sadist it leaves him _needing_ more.

It could be because of the red; everything bathed in a sultry red reminds him of her. It reminds him of her deep red lipstick, and the stains it leaves on her coffee cups that litter her ready room. It's the same colour red she insists she's always worn, but he knows deep down over seven years the colour grew deeper, and more intense.

It reminds him of the coral pink colour her lips sport after they've been grazing over his skin.

And it reminds him of the shiny red stains that pepper the grey collar of his uniform that he can never quite bring himself to wash off.

More than likely, he concedes, it's because of the way it stings his taste buds. It's hot and makes his nose run and his eyes water in a way that he hates, but it's perfect in it's risky combination and only hurts if you use it wrong. Or you have too much.

It is the perfect food to describe Kathryn Janeway.

That's probably the only reason she loves those little squares of chocolate flecked with chilli-red. The mere thought of it is so wrong, and yet once he's tasted even a meagre amount, he can't get enough.

And it always seems just out of reach.

She's the only woman on board he knows of that loves it with such unencumbered passion.

And he has Tom Paris to thank for introducing her to the 21st century treat early on in their journey.

She says it tickles her tastebuds, and gives her a thrill that's entirely unexpected. That it's so simple in its elegance, but denies her every opportunity to overindulge in something that's too sweet.

Sometimes, if she's feeling generous, she'll let him taste the last remnants of the luscious treat off her tongue as she roams his mouth; the stars passing by outside her window barely distracting her from the mission to get him to love the sting of the chilli.

He always thought it tasted worse than Neelix's cooking, and when he started this journey, he couldn't imagine falling for something so contrary.

It's usually in those moments he concedes he has a grudging partiality to chilli-chocolate. But, only if it's coming from her lips.

His secret love for it began years ago, when she'd brought it out with a triumphant glee on her face as they sailed away on Lake George. She'd said it reminded her that she was alive; that the burn in her throat gave her feeling.

It taught her what it meant to _feel_ alive.

And, when he'd finally lent in and kissed her, his mouth had tingled in a way that left him aching for more.

He kept it stored in his replicator as a favourite selection after that night.

The taste had been totally exotic, and invoked feelings of nostalgia whenever he caught her lips brushing over the delicacy for many months after. Just the sight of it made his mouth start to burn with heat.

She used it to calm her nerves after a ferocious battle, and she kept it by her beside in the dark days that haunted her. It grounded her to reality, when their lives were so fleeting and temporary.

He knew it reminded her of a better time.

A time when chilli-chocolate was damn near the best thing he'd ever tasted off Kathryn Janeway. And he never thought he'd taste anything so good off a woman again.

It was mouth-wateringly sweet, with a kick that will burn him in the aftermath in a way that he hates. But he doesn't stop.

He _can't_ stop.

It doesn't quell the appetite; it leaves him wanting – needing - more.

And in that respect, it is definitely Kathryn Janeway.

Chilli in chocolate has anger under the surface, and passion that is entirely unguarded. It's bound with blazing fire, and sensuality that leaves a heady mix of lust and love coming off her mouth and tongue in a way that makes him want to kiss her for hours when she tastes like _that_.

He doesn't care if crew reports, or security issues lay abandoned on the table in her quarters when he can kiss her without restraint on the couch, the light of the passing stars echoing off the shadows on her walls.

He just can't get enough of her.

And when she brings out that little packet of chocolate, the red particles glinting in the starlight, he knows he is totally lost.

Transfixed on something he knows he will never be fully able to possess.

Or understand.

It doesn't need to make sense. He just knows that it _does._

Her hair reminds him of the chilli flakes speckled through the deep hues of the chocolate squares. The contrast is a perfect reflection of the two of them.

He pushes his hands through the strands of her hair, revelling the way the auburn lengths fall over the bronze of his own hands as he kisses her harder, bruising her in the way he knows she likes.

It makes her grip his arms tightly, and groan into his mouth, and he knows without a doubt that this is where he should be.

He likes the chilli. He likes the bitter-sweet.

He _loves_ the way it burns.

Fin.


End file.
